


Returning the Luck

by belncaz



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Bittersweet, Character Death, Complete, Drama & Romance, I Don't Even Know, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 14:48:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5590279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belncaz/pseuds/belncaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takao didn't know stealing Midorima's lucky pencil would become a habit, but it did. He always returned it though. This is when he gives it back for the last time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Returning the Luck

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Kuroko no Basuke. This story is also published on FFnet, same username.

Takao smiled to himself as he felt the weight of the box in his pocket as he stood in a hallway. Inside the container was the hand carved pencil he'd stolen from Midorima their first year of high school. He'd made a game of it, to see if he could swipe it from the so-controlled Shin-chan and use it for himself on their tests. He'd been successful, and then he'd returned it and cheerfully accepted the ferocious scolding and near-apoplectic fit that the bespectacled teen had dished out.

Eventually, Midorima had calmed down with the safe return of his rolling pencil. He'd probably have forgotten the whole incident, really, except Takao took it again for their finals. The cycle repeated itself numerous times until Midorima tried to just give him one of his own. But that wasn't the point, was it? He loved to see how riled up Shin-chan could get when things didn't go his way. So instead of accepting the pencil outright, it became a roundabout gift - Midorima would hide the extra one and when he opened the case that contained 'his' pencil and saw the inevitable note from Takao, he'd have to content himself with an exasperated sigh and retrieve the spare. Takao would return the pilfered one after the exam or other evaluation and he'd grin at the slight flare of disapproval on Midorima's face before he'd finally, reluctantly, smile at Takao's audacity.

The joke hadn't grown old for Takao, which probably said more about his sense of humor than he'd like to admit, but it didn't bother him. He knew that in his own way, Midorima had allowed Takao to carry on the small thefts by not more securely storing the rolling pencil. It was a silent way he showed that he cared about Takao's grades and that he valued their friendship enough to not shut the shorter teen out for what was not particularly mature behavior.

He leaned against the wall with his hand in his pocket, absently running a thumb over the smooth wood of the narrow box. It occurred to him that by now the pencil's carvings had mostly faded, but there was still something satisfying about knowing he'd managed to abscond with it yet again even though it was now more a talisman than an actual testing implement. Their school days were long since over after all. Yet there was some comfort to be drawn from knowing this one item held a connection so long-standing. It was that more than anything else that made him continually usurp the pencil whenever Midorima was facing a situation where it would be appropriate to use it. The green haired male seemed to know Takao's reasoning, for all he'd fuss that Takao was being childish to continue the jest.

Voices could be heard through the door and he supposed he should go in. But he didn't want to. He was having a better time reminiscing in the corridor than he would mingling, but he knew Shin-chan would disapprove if he avoided his duty for too much longer. So he went in.

There wasn't much to mark the gathering as special except everything was discretely elegant – just like Midorima had wanted. There were people he knew and many he didn't. There was an unassuming ledger placed on a pedestal for guests to sign their names and write an appropriate comment for the occasion. There was a small selection of finger foods and beverages alongside one wall and quiet music was playing in the background. The reception reflected much of who Midorima was, but Takao was a bit sad it didn't reveal the quirks that both distanced and humanized him.

He meandered over to the guestbook and mindlessly scanned the entries. It was more or less what he'd expected. He ignored the perfectly functional pen that had been provided and instead took out the pencil to add his contribution.

Takao briefly wondered what others would think of him signing the book, but he wasn't really too concerned. He wasn't truly there for them. Instead he worked his way over to an alcove that was carefully partitioned off from the main gathering to provide privacy.

He had the space to himself for a while and used it to gather his thoughts. Before he left he placed the box with the pencil at the base of a pile of mementos and photographs. It was time to return the luck one last time; they couldn't continue this game anymore after all.

His usually cheerful eyes blurred with tears. Takao couldn't have imagined how painful this was going to be despite knowing it was going to happen. He supposed Shin-chan would chide him that he hadn't done everything possible to prepare, but how could he?

Suddenly he couldn't stay there any longer and as much as he wanted to run out to leave more quickly, he wouldn't be so obvious. This wasn't about him, not really. He turned and walked out of the reception for his husband's funeral without speaking to anyone, perhaps they could see he was embarrassingly close to losing his composure, and made for their home. Because it was still theirs, too much of Shin-chan's personality was embedded there – from the collection of Oha Asa lucky items to the neatly arranged journals of medical research. They were so different from one another but it somehow found order in the years of compromise and chaos.

Once he entered, he collapsed. Not physically, he was still standing perfectly upright, but he felt empty and alone in a way he hadn't since he'd first started dating Midorima. There was a fiercely blinking light on the answering machine but he didn't check the waiting messages. There wasn't really a need.

He made preparations to shower and went to bed despite the early hour, unable to attempt anything more strenuous than that. He lay facing the open window and stared sightlessly as time crawled onward. It wasn't until he saw a shooting star race across the sky that he finally lost what fragile control he had and began sobbing into the pillow – the star's fast pace and trailing arc inadvertently calling to mind Shin-chan's basketball skills and the agonizingly cheerful proclamation from Oha Asa this morning that Cancers were in first place. He hoped so. He really hoped that Midorima had found his way to triumph in whatever form it took in the afterlife.

Almost against his will, Takao would continue to listen to Oha Asa after that day – the routine ingrained from decades of Shin-chan's anxious fretting even though the fortuneteller herself was not the same through all that time. He would still locate the relevant lucky items, finding himself turning to show them to someone who was no longer there to appreciate them.

It wouldn't be until years later, when he himself finally slipped to the spirit realm and saw Shin-chan waiting for him, that he'd admit to a relief he wouldn't be alone anymore. And when Takao saw the familiar pencil in Midorima's hand as the shimmering form of his husband arched an eyebrow, he laughed. It seemed it was his turn again, then.


End file.
